Page 12 of Fortune's Blade

I decided to try the crabs instead, and the next moment, fell into another world.

It was one of blissfully cool, underground caverns, where water from the spring rains rotted the vegetation that was swept inside and led to a proliferation of tasty worms feeding on nature’s largess. And on which mother crabs in turn fed their little ones, for these caves were their nursery. Later, as the young crabs grew and ventured forth into the forest pools outside, they found other delicacies: algae, small fish and frogs to start with, then larger fish in the rivers that flowed here and there, and finally furry or feathered forest creatures, which became prey as the crabs grew big and strong and faster than almost everything else in the forest. And all of that did not count the plentiful vegetation, the rotting corpses of animals—for they were happy to finish off another’s kill—and essentially anything they met with.

Well, anything that wasn’t fey.

The fey were the one food they avoided, for the strange, two-legged creatures had long sticks, some of which erupted in lightning from the ends that hurt even through the shell. The crabs did not like the lightning and would do much to avoid it, including even serving the fey by carrying them on their backs or helping them to move obstructions from the road with their pincers. The wild crabs did not think much of the servile kind, and sometimes made fun of them, with their cries echoing across the forest at night, urging them to run, run, run and rejoin them.

But our crab couldn’t run. He had been easily caught and made a beast of burden, for he had been born mangled, with one side leg small and spindly and curled underneath him, useless. And one of his large back ones, which were supposed to match his great front claws and provide stability in a fight, was withered, although at least he could stand on it. But it had never been right.

As it was currently demonstrating.

He felt it give way, felt himself start to fall, and then felt something else, something new: a startling sense of power flowing through the weakened leg. Warmth and the cessation of his constant pain followed, and then a current of strength such as he had never known. It was glorious!

He could feel the muscle plumping up, the formerly crumpled skin stretching tight, the joints popping into their proper places. And while he was still wondering about that, a sudden sound came from the trees, distant and far away. Not a taunt, as he had heard more times than he could count, but a summons: a female of his species calling out for a mate. She was looking for someone strong and ferocious and capable of defending her and their brood.

Someone like him!

He reared up on two strong hind legs, throwing off the puny creatures clinging to his shell, and roared in the face of his startled adversary. Which a moment before had been sure of victory, and now found itself the weaker one, and began quickly backing down. The winner roared again just because he could, then scuttled quickly away, making for the nearest great tree and the freedom of the canopy, where he called out to his mate with a delighted sound.

He did not know what had happened, only that he had a new life this day, a new life and freedom!

Wait for me, he called to her, and heard her bellow back. She would wait. But she would not wait long, he knew, and thus he raced across the treetops with urgent grace, barely ruffling the leaves around him despite his speed.

* * *

“Well, this is just great.”

“I am sorry,” I said, for at least the tenth time, but Raymond did not care. Raymond was furious, and rightfully so. I bit my lip.

“Isn’t this cozy?” Marlowe asked, grinning at me. He seemed to find the fact that we were all bunched up together in the small cage to be highly amusing. Ray did not feel the same.

“I really am very—” I began again, but a look from under the somewhat battered hat stopped the words in my throat.

I stared back mutely.

“They hanged horse thieves in my day,” Marlowe offered. “I wonder what they do to crab rustlers?”

“I did not rustle the crab,” I pointed out. “I also did not set it free—”

“Tell the fey that.”

“I did. They did not seem to understand. I do not know much of their language yet—”

“They understood,” Ray said, and the sound of his voice was odd, perhaps because he was gritting his teeth while trying to talk. “They also felt you healing the damned thing, which allowed it to escape—”

“So, semantics, really,” Marlowe put in.

“—so we’re fucked!” Ray pushed up the hat, which he was somehow still wearing after our tumble from the escaping crab’s back, to allow him to glare at me properly. “Do you get that? These are dark fey; and property to them is a Very Big Deal. They lost almost everything they owned when the damned Svarestri or Alorestri or whatever -estri came along and took their homes. Their stuff. Everything they had that they couldn’t run off with before some badass on a horse ran ‘em to ground and killed ‘em for fun or target practice! So, losing even more stuff ‘cause Pollyanna had to feel bad for a goddamned monster—”

“I am sorry,” I whispered again, because I hadn’t intended to do this. I had just thought that helping the crab to become equal with its opponent might end the fight quicker, as the other had been pressing its advantage, knowing that ours was weaker. I hadn’t thought—

But that was the problem. I hadn’t thought, wasn’t used to having to think, about anything at all much less the consequences of my actions. I rarely took actions, and when I did, it was in battle. I knew how to do that, but this . . ..

“Do you still want me to think for myself?” I asked Ray, and saw his mouth suddenly close.

He stared at me for a moment, opened his mouth again as if to speak, and then shut it once more. I did not know why, but Marlowe seemed to find that very funny. He laughed in my face, which was less than pleasant as he was highly odorous, having tried to escape a week ago before being tracked to a farmer’s pig pen, where he had smeared himself with muck to confuse the noses of the fey dogs.

He had not confused their noses; they had found him again without trouble. But he was now assaulting mine. I could not help it; my face wrinkled, something that made him laugh all the more, to the point that he was clutching his chest and pointing at Ray.

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